Jack Parsons and the Post-Nuclear Journey
by 0996395
Summary: This story follows some of the main plot of Fallout 4, is not "just another" novelization, and tells the story using dark humor and more humanized, grittier characters. Or at least that is what I tell myself.
1. Jack Parsons and the Rude Awakening

**Jack Parsons and the Post-Nuclear Journey**

AN: You may not hear it from anyone else but I, for one, LOVE reviews.

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And so, on that day, Jack Parsons found himself in a variety of uncomfortable positions.

Refusing nuclear annihilation contingency from some shyster. Being frozen up in a cryogenic pod that he thought was meant to give him a nice shower. Squinting from daylight after so much time spent underground. And oh, the retching. Let's not forget about that.

Jack had woke up that day afraid of a speech he was supposed to give. As a soldier in the United State military, his specialty was shooting individuals from a long distance, and walking a long distance in semi robotic armor. His specialty was definitely not public oratory in front of large groups of people. His wife, Nora, however, was convinced that he was going to knock the speech out of the park. She was the easygoing, carefree one. Jack was the care full, hardgoing one. He originally joined the military because he was so concerned about the various affairs of the geopolitical climate that he had to go and see for himself. That, and he was pretty sure that if he did well enough, then the military would pay off. Naturally, he chose to be a sniper, so that he could stay as far away from the enemy as possible.

After giving himself an impeccable shave, and a small pep talk to boot, he had begun to eat breakfast and watch the news. Life was good. He had a wife, a son, a house, a robot butler, and even his own atomic car. Though resettling into civilian life had proven challenging at first, the future looked bright. Of course, he had no idea just how bright it was about to become out there in the Boston suburbs. Incidentally, at that moment came a knock on the door from a man looking to sell some kind of insurance against nuclear war.

Nora asked if Jack could get the door, so he got up and swung it open, only to reveal a pasty white man in the ugliest shade of yellow. The man was incredibly concerned about whether or not Mr. Parsons would accept a place in a Vault. Apparently the Vault-Tec corporation thought the Parsons family would be an asset in Post-War America. Now, a Vault was the place you would go to run, hide, and then stick it out once the bombs dropped. Jack had spent enough time in the army, and seen enough of the "Real World," to come to the full belief that the grandiose ideas of Vaults actually being a benefit to humanity were full of shit. Besides, to him the threat of total nuclear annihilation seemed unlikely, the way that the war was going. Add the concept of Mutually Assured Destruction, which could be grasped even by the manchildren at the highest echelons of world government, Jack would very much like not to accept a spot in the local Vault, thankyouverymuch.

The representative insisted on explaining the advantages to Vault life to Jack Parsons. Jack Parsons insisted on slamming the door in the man's face and returning to his coffee and waffles. Though his mind was made up, he still felt a twinge of social remorse for the way he treated the guy. But then again, a door in the face is the only answer some of those sales types understand, he told himself.

He felt pretty foolish, however, when the man on the news on the television got all pale and began telling his viewers that the end of the world was, in fact, nigh.

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The next few moments would go on to become blurry in Jack's memory, but he does recall that he did, in fact, attend to run, hide, and stick it out in Vault 111 just before the bombs dropped. After what seemed like the world's longest and noisiest elevator ride, he was down in a shadowy room full of guards and lab coat technicians. And they were guiding him along. Parsons paid little attention to what they were actually saying, still reeling in shock and trying to make sure that his wife and newborn son were alright. He caught a snippet from a scientist who looked friendly enough that the giant pod he was about to get into was for sanitation. He thought that seemed odd, but he was having an odd kind of day in the first place. So, he climbed up and got in.

Words can hardly grasp the nightmare he witnessed thereafter. In the pod, he fell asleep and dreamt that a mercenary type, accompanied by a scientist in a radiation suit, killed his wife and kidnapped his son from the pod across the way. He woke up both five minutes and two hundred years later, when the pod seemed to open up automatically.

He ascertained that the nightmare had just become a reality, and he had been cryogenically frozen for an indefinite amount of time and had indeed seen his wife killed and son taken. He stumbled toward the entrance of the vault in a half daze, still too much in shock for feelings of grief, rage, and fear to take their hold. He remembered that he had to kill a few giant cockroaches and wondered what that was all about before reaching the elevator, pistol in hand, but he made it.

He found that he could make the doors open and elevator work using a fancy electronic watch he found on a generous skeleton. If he had more presence of mind, he would realize that he had seen a similar device before, during his years of service. It was a Pip-Boy, personal computing device. Before a couple of minutes had past, Jack Parsons found himself on an elevator, ascending back to the Boston suburb to figure out just what the hell was going on.

The sun nearly blinded him. He threw up an arm to block the rays. It seems like it was brighter than it ever had before. Once he could make it by squinting, he set his eyes on what he would later learn was called the Commonwealth now. And it was a devastated wasteland.

A growing sense of urgency had Jack running down the hill toward his old house, albeit without falling down and breaking his crown.

When he got to his old house, he noticed a few things in no apparent order. His car was broken down and rusted to hell. The windows were broken and the door was hanging on its hinges. The entire down seemed to be dead. The streets had definitely not been maintained in a really long time. The grass outside his house was dead, and was apparently still being tended by Jack's robot butler.

The robot expressed shock, surprise, and joy at seeing his old master. The bot said something about how he didn't see Jack's wife or son anywhere, and that's when Jack just couldn't take it anymore.

He fell to his hands and knees, and began to retch.


	2. Jack Parsons and the Unlikely Friend

**Jack Parsons and the Unlikely Friend**

Jack Parsons was not quite sure-on account of the fact that he was still reeling-but he thought he heard the robot suggest the idea of striking up a small search party for the missing infant. The thought transported him back to reality.

He had no idea what the hell Post-War Boston was going to look like. He had no clue what unknown dangers lie out there. He didn't know if his tiny little pre-planned neighborhood of Sanctuary hills was all that was left, or if there were others… Well, he supposed that there would have to be other people around if his son, Shaun, was kidnapped. He just had no clue where to start looking, which is why he began seriously entertaining the offer of running around house to house with his faithful robot sidekick.

The robot was a Mister Handy, a handy, dandy, self-contained, self-sustained, self-propelled personal servant that had seen a variety of uses in society before the bombs had dropped. It seems that after nuclear annihilation, they had mostly taken up gardening dead and dying plants. This particular Mister Handy had been christened Codsworth by the elated Nora shortly after his purchase, as a birthday present for her previously that fall. Even though Jack had brought Codsworth into the world, so to speak, he and Codsworth did not find themselves on the best of terms. See, Jack had seen plenty of robots on the front, both ones he fought alongside and well, ones he fought, and he found them to be entirely unreliable and untrustworthy. He thought it was completely asinine that something like a Mister Gutsy could replace real soldiers. They simply lacked the human element, something that could never be made up for, no matter how many flamethrowers or machine guns were attached to the chassis.

Yet here Codsworth was, alive and well, unlike so many of his human counterparts. He didn't even seem butthurt from being (intentionally) left behind by Jack during the dash to the Vault. In fact, he seemed a little bit _too_ well. The robot asked Jack if he had had anything to eat in the last 200 years, and offered to make some kind of toast, if that would be to the master's liking. Jack decided to ask the robot if he was, in fact, feeling alright.

"Hey, robot, are you feeling alright?"

Codworth proceeded to have the second emotional breakdown in Sanctuary Hills that morning. Well, if Mister Handys are capable of that sort of thing. He cried:

"You have no idea the pressure I have been under, good sir! I thought you and the missus had died with the rest, but on the off chance that you were to return from the Vault I set about making sure your abode was in tip-top shape for you! But it is oh so hard to clean in the midst of the effects of nuclear fall-"

"Damn it, you bucket of bolts, pull yourself together or I… I'll start your self-destruct sequence!"

Jack did not know for sure whether such a thing existed, but he thought it was worth the bluff. It seemed to work. Codsworth took a moment to compose himself and then re-submitted the aforementioned search party proposal for further review.

"No," said Jack. "That would never work. As much as I want to go house to house stomping on oversized cockroaches, I figure that if my son were in Sanctuary Hills then you would have noticed by now. What I need is a solid lead."

Codsworth pointed a mechanical arm in the direction of Concord, stating that various groups with varying levels of aggression had come and gone there since the radiation subsided. If he was lucky, he could run into a someone friendly and be pointed in the right direction. Hopefully.

Concord was the nearest city, of which Sanctuary Hills was technically a suburb. Jack took a moment to look past the bombed out neighborhood in that direction. Then he took a moment to look, well, around. What he saw was a picture of devastation and decay. The houses around him, once quaint and picturesque, were now barely left standing. The trees all lacked leaves, and the grass all lacked color. The air smelled stale, like Earth's ventilation system had been shut off. There were no signs of life or civilization to be seen, except the Mister Handy in front of him. He sighed. This was Boston now. This was the world now. With the adrenaline wearing off, the weight of what the universe had just thrown at him began to take its toll. He was the man out of time, with everyone he had used to live for burned up or rotted away, except his boy. He told the robot he needed a few minutes, and then trudged indoors.

Jack Parsons looked around in what used to be his house. He didn't know whether he was looking for clues for Shaun's whereabouts, trying to see if there was anything useful to take, or just trying to get away from the obsequious Mister Handy. His living room and kitchen held nothing of interest to him, except for the household notes on his fridge door that had long ago lost their relevance. The medicine cabinet in the bathroom held a stimpak. These stimpaks were a medical sensation before the war, providing a veritable panacea for a variety of ailments. Jack did not know how useful they were in his current context, but he decided to pocket it-as soon as he found clothing with pockets. He realized that he was still in his Vault-issued jumpsuit.

He looked in his room and found the drawers hanging crooked and completely empty. The bedframe was not much more than a rotten husk, with the mattress nowhere to be found. In other words, the house was in ruins. He didn't look in Shaun's room.

He began to feel very tired. And then angry. And then scared, and hurt. And then angry again. He decided he was going to find his son, no matter what it took. He did not care what was out there. But first, he needed a drink. He wanted to feel numb. Before the war, after coming back from the military, he had gotten into the habit of drinking. Excessively. After Nora had threatened to walk out, however, he began to abstain, and did not keep anything that he could be tempted with in his house.

He looked around the next-door neighbor's house for something nice and alcoholic, but alas, he could not find anything. He looked in the next neighbor's house, and the next. Nothing, besides the aforementioned oversized cockroaches. It looked like most of the houses had been picked clean by looters, and one was the final resting place of a skeleton who had unsuccessfully tried to survive in the godforsaken wasteland. Jack cursed, and then made up his mind to investigate Concord, both for the boy and for the booze. He would even settle for something a little more narcotic, if it availed itself.

Motivated by paternal love and a proclivity toward the addictive, he marched back to Codsworth.

"Come on, we're going to Concord."


	3. and the Slight Tactical Advantage

**Jack Parsons and the Slight Tactical Advantage**

A/N: _I'm going to start jumping around in the narrative some instead of telling it all continuously. Each "episode" may take a chapter or two to tell._

_Also, if you have a moment, please leave a review! Even if you don't think it would make much of a difference, it does. I love to hear how people are liking the story, and ways I can improve my craft!_

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Codsworth backed away from the raider slowly, discovering quickly that he was getting himself trapped in a corner. He was doing what looked like the Mister Handy version of limping, his thrusters barely keeping him upright. He buzzed his buzzsaw faintly, intending perhaps to look menacing. Ten feet away and closing came a raider brandishing a machine pistol, apparently looking to gain some scrap metal or some energy cells out of this interaction. They were at a playground in Concord, but here, nobody was playing. Or so it seemed.

"Please sir, don't hurt me!" whimpered Codsworth, "I'm sure we can come to some kind of armistice. I promise not to ridicule your unkempt hair any further!"

Unfortunately for our trusty mechanical companion, the marauder only let out a string of nasty expletives and stepped closer.

"I'm going to strip you for parts, you little b-"

However, the raider could not get the next words out, due to the stab wound he was currently experiencing. See, while Codsworth was masquerading as a helpless robot who had strayed to the wrong side of town, Jack Parsons was sneaking out from behind a nearby stack of tires, switchblade in hand. He jammed the knife deep into the victim's kidney and then covered his mouth with his other hand. He caught the body as it fell and let it down easy.

The last words the raider heard before losing consciousness were:

"Nobody insults the robot except me."

Jack and Codsworth had spent a couple of hours that afternoon scouting the town, from its edges. Even without binoculars or a scope, Jack noted several armed, post-apocalyptic thugs trapping at least one person inside the old Museum of Freedom. Codsworth informed Jack that these were known as raiders. Jack needed the fighting to die down before making a move. There was no need, in his eyes, to help the folks holed up in the museum. They could be just as dangerous as the raiders. He waited for what was either a stalemate or a raider victory, time would tell, and crept into the town just before evening. That was when he had set up an ambush for one of the thugs patrolling the perimeter.

"By Jove, where did you learn to do that, Master Jack?" exclaimed Codsworth.

"Military," came the curt reply, "Also, keep your voice down. Or speakers, or whatever."

"Dear me, I suppose that does make sense," mused Codsworth (much more quietly), as Jack began examining the body for anything useful.

You see, Jack had joined the military when he was 18 years old, in the midst of global turmoil but before all of the major tiffies broke out for the U.S.A. In fact, he decided first to specialize as a sniper, then as a special operative, and then as a covert operative. By the time China officially invaded Alaska in 2066, he was 23 years of age, and ready to be unleashed. He saw all kinds of action on the front lines, behind enemy lines, and almost never on the sidelines. He performed counter ops against Chinese Stealth soldiers, who to this day he would describe as "crafty little bastards." Throughout the fiercest days in the battle for Alaska, he became one of the most decorated and reliable assets to Uncle Sam.

Naturally, he was one of the men picked to be deployed to the front whilst wearing Power Armor, mechanical suits that enabled the wearer to become a sort of walking tank. Or a sort of walking nightmare, for enemy combatants who found themselves on the outside of the armor. Thus, Jack Parsons became one of the fine men who pushed China back and enabled America to invade their mainland.

All of this meant that he was more than capable of handling a few grimy punks with absolutely no military training whatsoever.

Jack took the dispatched raider's machine pistol and made sure the clip was full. He then placed it into a shoulder holster he had fashioned with an old seatbelt and miscellaneous junk, including but not limited to a baseball mitt, and some military grade duct tape. It made a fine addition to his switchblade and 10mm pistol.

By this point, the streets of Concord were almost entirely empty. Jack heard shots coming from the direction of the Museum of Freedom. It appeared that fighting between the thugs and the unknown party had resumed. He crept along the streets, Codsworth not far behind, until he got to the door and peered inside.

A few more of the raiders were concentrating their fire at a door in the upstairs region. Apparently the strangers were pinned down in one of the rooms. One thug was situated on a walkway above the first floor, behind some crates. He popped up to empty a clip toward the door, and received a laster blast straight to the chest. That sent him hurtling off of the opposite end of the walkway, ostensibly with a Wilhelm scream escaping his lips. So far, Jack had not been noticed. He took the mental note that the unknown party was heavily armed.

He snuck through a Boston Tea Party exhibit and found the blasted raider on the other side, laying on the ground. He twitched and groaned while smoke rose from his chest. Jack caught the distinct smell of burning flesh and nearly gagged. It had been awhile. The distraction made him lower his guard:

"Hey dipshit, what are you doing in here?!" shouted a raider at the top of a nearby stairwell. He pointed his pipe revolver menacingly. Jack was about to attempt a Wild West draw of his own pistol, but at that exact moment his foe received a blast of flame directly to the face. He caught fire quickly, and fell down the stairs, screaming. He was dead in a matter of seconds, gone home to the big raider dungeon in the sky. Out of the corner of his eye, Jack saw the trail of flame recede into one of Codsworth's mechanical arms.

"You've had a flamer attachment this whole time!?" exclaimed Jack, bewildered.

"I'm programmed only to use it in emergencies, sir," replied Codsworth, sheepishly.

"Well, consider yourself on emergency status from here on out."

Between the special forces soldier and the flamethrowing, buzzsaw wielding robot, they made short work of the rest of the opposing forces.

Our hero made his way to the a door on the third floor that was filled with fresh bullet holes. He figured it was where the laser-gun-toting mystery man was located. He decided it was high time to make some introductions. He knocked on the door, politely.

"Jack Parsons, United States Military."

The door creaked open to reveal a man dressed in some sort of colonial duster, complete with a laser musket and nifty hat. He was accompanied by three helpless-looking survivors and a man dressed as a mechanic, who looked a little bit too cheerful given the circumstances.

"Preston Garvey, Commonwealth Minutemen. You arrived just in ti-" began Preston, but he was interrupted by Jack saying,

"Nice to meet you too, Preston. Say, do you have anything to drink?"


	4. and the Unexpected Guests

**Jack Parsons and the Unexpected Guests**

Jack found himself hammering planks over a window in Sanctuary Hills. The handy Sturges was holding the other end of the plank, keeping it steady. He had decided to go back to Sanctuary at the request of the refugees he met. At the time, he couldn't say why he hadn't simply plunged onward to Diamond City in his rusty new suit of Power Armor. They just looked so helpless, like elementary schoolers who had just missed a bus. He knew that Nora would have wanted him to help out where he could. So he started rebuilding his old neighborhood with the help of his new companions: Sturges, who seemed to be able to build anything, the Longs, a heartbroken family that was willing to learn how to farm, and Preston Garvey, formerly of the Commonwealth Minutemen. He patrolled the town, on guard for any threat. And he complained loudly whenever it began raining.

There was another member of the party, Mama Murphy, but she mostly just sat in her chair and asked people for drugs. Jack Parsons and her would get along, if he didn't want to keep any drugs he found to himself.

Jack had worked out with the settlers that once the defenses of Sanctuary could be built up, Preston would accompany him to Diamond City, to guard him and to tell the town that the Minutemen were back in business. Jack didn't know how he felt about these Minutemen, especially since there was only one of them, but he would appreciate an extra gun on the roads. A fancily clad musketeer, a covert operative in a bright blue vault suit, and a flame throwing robot? Sounded like a recipe for success.

They finished nailing the board in. The window was now sealed off from any potential threat coming from the southeast. Things were starting to shape up. They had a well, some crops, guard posts, and minor fortifications. Everybody had a bed to sleep on, or at least a sleeping bag.

"Things are starting to feel like home!" cheered Sturges. "What do you think, Jack?"

"I'm happy for you five, but I don't know if this place can be home again," came the reply.

"What do you mean?" Sturges inquired.

"This place, Sanctuary. It was my home a long time ago," said Jack, kinda cryptically. At this point, Sturges was beginning to connect the dots.

"Wait, so… you came to us in a Vault suit, and you said that Sanctuary used to be your home… How is that possible?" he asked. The mechanic's eyes were wide with curiosity. He was obsessed with how things worked, and in the man standing across from him, he saw a true piece of work.

"I don't want to talk about it…" Jack began, but after a few seconds of silence he decided to give a little more information. He didn't know why he was being so vulnerable, but he thought it had to do with how helpless these people were just a week ago. Despite his better instincts, he was beginning to feel the urge to protect this band of broken misfits.

"You could probably gather that I had a military background. I was a retired sergeant living in the Commonwealth before the bombs fell. Seems weird right?" he asked, but Sturges just looked at him, eyes wide with curiosity.

"I… had a life here, I guess. I had a wife, and a son, and a robotic butler. I was 34 when the bombs dropped. I guess I'm still 34 in some ways, but in other ways I'm over 200. I'm still trying to figure it out."

Sturges ignored the emotional weight of what Jack had just said, and inquired how exactly he had survived in his current condition. Jack explained the basics of cryogenics, and made an inward vow not to open up to any commonwealth settlers again.

From the corner of his eye he saw a flash of green. Then a flash of red. However, it was not due to premature Christmas decorations. Some kind of green giants, two of them, were on the edge of Sanctuary Hills, attempting to raid it. The red flash that Jack saw came from Preston opening fire on them.

"We've got company!" Garvey shouted as he started to crank his musket for another shot.

What the hell, Jack thought, as he looked at the approaching threat. Within a second he had his 10mm sidearm out and trained on the nearest enemy. It was roughly humanoid. However, it was bigger, greener, meaner, and less likely to attend tea parties than any human counterpart. He would later learn that they were called Super Mutants, and were the result of an evil science project, more or less. All he knew now was that they were a threat. He hollered at Sturges and the Longs to head for cover inside while he and Preston fought.

He took aim and fired, the 10mm bullets barely piercing the thick skin of the mutant. It did, however, slow him down, giving Preston enough time to crank up his next shot and blow the thing's head clean off. Before Jack had time to compliment the minuteman, the other mutant was in melee distance, with a broken board in hand. The giant swung with all its might and a feral battle cry. Jack ducked beneath a horizontal blow in the nick of time, but it caused him to lose his footing and fall straight onto his rear end. How embarrassing, he thought, I'm going to get killed after getting knocked to my ass.

The Super mutant brought the board back for another blow. He swung forward, but just before he could smash our hero's head in, the board met buzzsaw. Buzzsaw won. Codsworth had come and placed his sharpest mechanical arm in between the board and Jack's head. The mutant, now armed with a board's handle instead of a full board, turned tail to run away. The covert ops specialist regained his senses and fired a couple shots with his pistol into the back of the giant's knee. This brought him down. Preston Garvey then finished him off with a third blast from the laser musket.

"Looks like we make a pretty good team!" Preston mused. Jack scowled.

"My robot should have gotten here sooner."

Whether Codsworth took offense or not, he merely hovered in place, humming some old-timey tune.

The incident motivated the team to procure materials for and construct a couple of automatic machine-gun turrets in vicinity of the neighborhood. Thus, Preston Garvey of the Commonwealth Minutemen felt it was safe enough for him to venture to diamond city. Thus the three musketeers, of whom one was literally a musketeer, set out for that Great Green Jewel of the Commonwealth. Their most recent battle, however, had convinced Jack Parsons to stay firmly in his Power Armor.


	5. and the Village of Weirdos

**Jack Parsons and the Village of Weirdos**

Standing outside the gates of Diamond City, Jack Parsons was convinced that he had not met a more annoying woman in his life. He and Preston had stood there, and Codsworth had hovered there, while she chewed out a Diamond City guard for closing the gate on her. Apparently she had written something unsavory about the powers that be, and they were trying to lock her out for good. Probably serves her right, Jack thought to himself, as she listened to the woman berate the guard and attempt to wheedle her way back in.

She was a woman of average height, with dark brown hair and green eyes. She was dressed in a newsboy hat and red trenchcoat, which certainly did not flatter her physical appearance. There was a certain nasal whine to her voice, as well.

And yet, there was something about her that Jack found tolerable, if not downright endearing. She seemed very committed to the particular cause she was taking up, not willing to compromise it in the slightest, even if it meant taking her chances on the streets of the Fens around the ballpark. She stood for something. There also seemed to be a certain let's-set-the-world-on-fire ambition, with a hint of naivete thrown in for good measure. Jack could remember when he stood for something, besides finding the bastard who killed his wife and took his son.

The green eyes alighted on our hero and his gang, and they flashed with a spark of innovation.

"Hey, looks like we have a few merchants here up from Quincy! Wanna open the door for them? I would hate for our market to lose out on some of this stock! They even have a Mister Handy with them who they juuuust might be willing to part with."

At that, Codsworth motioned with his robotic arm to form some kind of objection, but Jack motioned at him to be quiet. They needed to get into the city just as much as the woman did.

Sure enough, the giant gate into Diamond City opened right up for them. Standing just inside was an overweight man in a brown suit, hands on his hips, the universal sign of disapproval.

"Piper! First, you publish lies in your newspaper, and then you lie about who is at the gate? I have half a mind to see you permanently expelled from the city. How would you like that?"

Jack and Codsworth never got a chance to hear Piper's reply, since they immediately headed into the city once the man's tirade began. Preston Garvey, on the other hand, waited patiently nearby the awkward conversation. He figured that the man in the suit would be important, and wanted to tell him the good news about the Commonwealth Minutemen's return.

Once inside, Jack got directions to, and made a beeline for, the Dugout Inn. This was a pub and hotel fashioned from the dugout and locker room. How quaint, thought Jack, as he realized that he would probably never get to watch a baseball game again. He immediately ordered a whiskey from the Russian sounding man at the counter. Codsworth hovered in place, happy that he didn't get sold.

Besides fulfilling his growing need for alcoholic beverages, Jack figured that a watering hole like this would be the perfect place to gather information as to the disappearance of his son. However, nobody really wanted to talk to him except the proprietor of the bar, who seemed to have a propensity for exaggeration.

"Excuse me, Vadim, was it?" Jack inquired. The barkeep nodded to the affirmative.

"Yes that's me! Did you want another drink? Try our Bobrov's Best Moonshine, the greatest drink in the Commonwealth!"

"No, no. Well, maybe later. I have a question for you. You seem to know quite a lot about this city and the area outside of it," Jack began. He was appealing to what seemed to be Vadim's inflated sense of ego, "what would YOU do if someone from you life turned up missing?"

At this, the man dropped his good-natured demeanor and leaned in uncomfortably close. Jack could smell alcohol on his breath. He was apparently sampling his own merchandise.

"My friend, I would assume that they had been taken by the Institute." The man's eyes had a palpable fear in them when he mentioned the I-word.

"The Institute?" Jack asked, rather loudly.

"Lower your voice!" Vadim urged, "you have no idea you could be listening. Look, if you want more information then you'll have to find it elsewhere. I don't want my customers feeling unsafe." At this, the Bobrov brother turned away and found something to clean, a very uncharacteristic behavior. Jack finished his drink and left the bar, wondering where he could turn. Some questions began to gather in his mind. What was the Institute? Why did their name provoke so much fear in an otherwise carefree man? What did they have to do with kidnappings? On his way back toward the main gates of the city, he ran into Preston.

"I hope you were more successful than me," Preston lamented, "the mayor said he didn't have time for me. Doesn't seem like anyone cares about the return of the Minutemen." At this, Jack thought he would say something kind, but noncommittal.

"I'm sure people will take you more seriously once you start doing some real good for people!" Jack tried to encourage, but he realized as he was saying it that it came out more like an insult. To save face, he said, "Besides, there are other ways to get the word out besides the mayor!"

This was how, despite his better judgement, Jack found himself along with his gang inside of the offices of Publick Occurences, the newspaper run by the annoying woman he had been trying to avoid. Once inside, Piper said that in exchange for an exclusive interview with Jack Parsons, The Man Out Of Time, she would point him in the right direction in the search for his son, and also print a small notice regarding the Commonwealth Minutemen.

"So, how was it inside of the Vault?" She began.

"Cold," came the curt reply.

"How is life up top compared to before the war?"

"About the same. Maybe a little more violent. I've encountered a lot more shirtless people trying to kill me. In my day they tended to wear some form of combat armor."

"If there is one thing you could say to the people of the Commonwealth, what would it be?"

At this, Jack paused and thought for a moment. He had never thought of himself as an example, or somebody whose opinions carried too much weight.

"Stay safe, I guess. You never know what life is going to throw at you. Tell your loved ones that you, well, love them. Yeah."

"That is a heartfelt answer. Thank you," Piper said, with something of a spark in her eye. Jack couldn't tell if it was because she had an interesting story to sell, or what. He didn't ask. Piper pointed him in the direction of everyone's favorite Synth Detective and wished him well.

"See you around, Jack."

"Not likely."


	6. and the Walk in the Park

**Jack Parsons and the Walk in the Park**

"I don't think I've ever seen such a high concentration of basket cases in my life!" complained Jack, referring to the baseball field-turned city growing smaller in the distance behind them.

"They're just scared. Smart people do stupid things when they're scared," came Preston Garvey's level-headed reply.

They were walking through the more-or-less empty streets of Boston toward Park Street Station, on some kind of rescue mission for a Synth detective. Jack Parsons reviewed the facts in his mind, to stay focused on the rational instead of the emotional parts. He was living a normal live in the suburbs when all-out nuclear war reared its ugly head. He had been duped into getting cryogenically frozen until god-knows-when, and at some point in the last 200 years, his son had been taken by _somebody_ for _some reason_, possibly a secretive group known as the Institute for some secretive purpose. His wife had been murdered in the process. He had been ejected from his icy sleep and forcibly reacquainted with the Commonwealth. He and the city he called home both found themselves a little bit worse for wear and a lot more desperate. Now, his only link to his old life was a missing son who nobody had seen, and his best lead was an artificial human who moonlighted as a detective, who himself happened to be missing. He now traveled with his old robotic butler and a man dressed as a musketeer. The former had proven himself both annoying and surprisingly proficient in combat. The latter was trying to resurrect a brutally decimated peace-bringing force who modeled themselves after an ancient civilian militia, who prided themselves on being able to get ready really fast. The facts made his head spin, blood pressure rise, and breath shorten. His new life was giving him anxiety.

He wanted things to go back to the way they were. However, part of him knew that things would never be normal again. As a consolation prize, he settled for revenge and whatever numbing agents he could get his hands on. At this moment, he thought that the only fitting distraction would be some conversation.

"Say, Preston, I realized I never really asked your story. What got you started with the Minutemen?" he asked. The soldier walking next to him took a while to formulate his response.

"You know how when you were growing up, you had heroes?"

"What, like the Unstoppables? I confess I listened to a Silver Shroud program or two, but I can't say I walk around now in a black trench coat and silver scarf."

"No, I mean like, real life heroes. Look, when I was growing up around the 'Wealth, there was no one to look up to. Danger all around, and barely squeaking out a living. The only decent people are were the Minutemen. They would be ready at a moment's notice to defend you, or help you get by. I joined up as soon as I could… I was 17 then, wide-eyed and eager to join a band of soldiers..." at this, Preston paused. "Huh, I guess I'm probably the last one, now." Jack could sense that his companion was in being vulnerable, so he offered some empathy.

"Well, for what it's worth, I know a little bit about what you're saying. I was a soldier too, and like you I started as young as I could. And, like you, I am pretty sure there isn't anyone left from my band of soldiers," stated Jack, letting out a grim chuckle. "But what you're trying to do for these people, it's noble. Maybe, once I find my son, this old specialist can lend some knowledge or even his gun to the Commonwealth Minutemen." Preston grinned.

"That's very optimistic of you. Time will tell if there will be any Minutemen to lend knowledge to after all this is over. I am starting from the ground up. It's going to take some effort to win back the people's trust. Besides, I've got a feeling that some big changes are coming to the Commonwealth. Mama Murphy said as much."

"You really believe that old pusher?"

"Well, she found Sanctuary for us. She told me that you would get a clue in Diamond City, and here we are, following that clue. She may know a thing or two. If the chems weren't so dangerous, I would ask her to enlist as an intelligence officer!" This time, it was Preston's turn to chuckle.

"Sirs, I don't mean to interrupt, but I believe we're here," informed Codsworth. The robot was right. In the midst of their conversation, they hadn't realized that they had reached the edge of the Boston Common. Here they would find Park Street Station, and hopefully the Synth detective who had disappeared. He remembered, with a twinge of guilt, that he had agreed to go to the park with Nora on the day that the bombs dropped.

Jack took a step forward, but Preston quickly motioned him to stop.

"Hold up. The Minutemen used to avoid Boston Common. People had a habit of disappearing here. Be on guard," he warned. Well, obviously people have a habit of disappearing here, Jack thought. We're tracking one of those disappearances right now.

They strode carefully and deliberately into the park. Everything seemed quiet. A little bit too quiet. Apparently, not even the ubiquitous raiders ventured here. Odd. They made their way toward the station.

"Say, does anyone have a clue why people disappear around here?" Jack inquired. Preston opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by a gigantic super mutant emerging from the water behind him with a roar. At one glance, our hero realized that they did not have the firepower to deal with this threat. The monster had a face painted like the world's scariest clown, and was big enough to wield a large boat anchor as a melee weapon.

"Run!" he shouted.

They took off at a full sprint and a full hover toward Park Street Station. Jack thought that they might be able to make it in time.

"Look out!" Preston yelled as he tackled Jack to the ground. Just above them a boulder flew and landed on the ground with a sickening thud. It would have been more than lethal, had the hit registered. They scrambled to their feet and ran toward the station, but the monster was closing in. The crashing footsteps were reaching a deafening crescendo behind them! They were almost to the doors when Jack chanced a look over his shoulder and saw the mutant was almost within striking distance. Then he saw a flash of gray. Codsworth had hovered into the distance between the soldiers and the behemoth. He let out a full blast of his flamethrower, which cause the beast to cover its eyes and stagger backwards.

"Go on sirs, I'll hold him!" asserted Codsworth in his cheerful British voice. Jack Parsons didn't hesitate. He took off at full speed and ducked through the doors, Preston close behind. Hopefully the door frame would be too small for their new enemy to fit through. They were in the entrance to Park Street Station, which consisted of a small entryway leading to two escalators. Codsworth backed toward the door slowly, waving a small stream of flame menacingly.

"Come on, you scallywag! En guarde!" he shouted. The mutant roared and advanced.

Preston, just inside the door, turned and yelled.

"Codsworth! Get in here! Now!"

The robot turned to face the soldiers and began to float toward the door, full speed. He never saw the anchor coming toward the back of his chassis, also at full speed. The shot landed with a vicious clang and propelled Codsworth through the door frame and past past the entryway. The shot paralyzed his entire frame and he went clattering down the escalator. It sounded like the world's rustiest pinball machine. At the foot of the escalator, he went limp.

Preston and Jack rushed down the escalator as fast as they could. They heard furious roaring behind them, but the mutant could not fit through the doors.

"Codsworth! Stay with me? How are you doing?" Preston asked as he slid down to the damaged Mister Handy's side. Codsworth's mechanical "eyes" focused on Preston.

"Sir, I think I'm going to go to sleep now. It was a pleasure to be of service," he stated, his mechanical voice beginning to fade. Jack felt his very first pang of concern for the robot. He had originally been reluctant to purchase a Mister Handy, but he had watched that same Mister Handy wait for him for hundreds of years, go into combat with him, and now sacrifice himself for his owner's benefit.

"Codsworth. Thank you," he said quietly.

"Pleasure to be of service!" the robot replied, each word sounding weaker than the last. "Do give Master Shaun my regards." At this, the mechanical eyes slowly unfocused, and Codsworth lay still.


	7. and the Underground Escapade

**Jack Parsons and the Underground Escapade**

Though the three musketeers were now down to two musketeers, they did not have much time to mourn the loss of their stalwart robotic companion. Codsworth's journey down the escalator had alerted at least one enemy who seemed to be coming to investigate. Or at least, Jack assumed he was an enemy. Realizing they were caught somewhat off guard, Jack decided to improvise. He made eye contact with Preston Garvey, pointed at the door, made a motion at him to take cover on the wall just inside of it, and to jump the unknown combatant as soon as he crossed the threshold. Preston simply looked confused.

He realized, with some chagrin, that Preston was not up-to-date on the hand motions of the various special operations units of the United States military.

"Hide behind the door and jump him!" he whispered, with a growing sense of urgency. This time, Preston got the message.

"What's that? Who's out there?" came a grouchy voice from within, as footsteps grew louder. Out of options, Jack hid behind the remains of Codsworth, laying supine. His training kicked in and he slowed his breathing. He had been in life-or-death situations before, even ones where stealth was critical. And that was against trained enemies. If what he had seen of the wasteland so far was true everywhere, he could give almost anyone out there a covert ass-kicking.

Into the room walked a man who Preston would know as a ghoul, but Jack would have almost no frame of reference for. He looked like a walking zombie, with permanent radiation scarring all over his face and an unnaturally scratchy voice. Jack Parsons decided to ask about it later, when their lives did not hang in the balance. It was time.

"Now!" he shouted, from behind the departed Mister Handy.

Preston drove the butt of his rifle as hard as he could into the intruder's neck. The ghoul crumpled, gasping for air. He would never get back up. Then, Jack wanted to know what the hell that things was. Preston explained the basics of ghoul anatomy, which Jack accepted, somewhat incredulously. This post-war world was turning out even weirder than expected.

The benefit was that they had subdued an enemy without immediately alerting his friends, and said enemy was carrying a .45 caliber submachine gun. Jack grabbed it, and inspected it. The gun seemed to be just the sort that some of the infantry carried during the war. It had also been favored by Pre-War gangsters. Jack took a moment to examine the ghoul. He was dressed in a dirty pinstriped suit, and before he had been killed, a brown fedora. That had flown off during his fall, of course.

"Who are these people?" Jack asked.

"They call themselves the Triggermen. They model themselves after some goons from before the war, I think. All I know is that they mostly stuck to Goodneighbor. Looks like they're branching out," Preston explained.

"Well, the good news is that they don't seem to be fond of body armor. That'll make my job easier," Jack stated as he locked and loaded, "You ready to do this?"

Preston grinned and nodded, and began cranking up his laser musket.

With their combined military expertise, they would go on to make short work of the rest of the Triggermen. The fight lead them deep into a subway tunnel, which turned into a Vault. Jack Parsons felt a pang of fear, standing in front of the Vault door. He knew that it was irrational to fear an unrelated Vault, but even the sight of the massive cog-shaped blast cover reminded him of that worst day of his life. He had to take a few breaths before plugging his Pip-Boy into the interface. He was going to press forward, for Shaun.

It was not long before they encountered the object of their search. In a cavernous vault atrium, being pestered by a thug named apparently named Dino, the Synth Detective was locked away. Preston Garvey cranked up his laser musket as quietly as he could, breathed in deeply, aimed down the sights, and pulled the trigger. The laser burst struck the unfortunate gangster in the back of the head. His entire body lit up and converted to ash, on the spot. That happened sometimes with laser-based weaponry, Jack recalled. It had happened from time to time, during the war. Made an awful mess for the families of the soldier who was hit.

Upon reaching Dino, Jack poked through his smoking hot remains with the butt of his submachine gun, until he found a holotape buried in the pile. It contained a password to a computer which would unlock the room which housed the detective.

What stuck out about the detective the most was his yellow eyes. More than the half-decayed robotic face, more than the old trenchcoat and fedora, more than the voice that sounded weary of the world and cynical about people, the detective had yellow eyes. They seemed to make him look more inquisitive, like his eyes picked up on more than a normal human's did. And hey, perhaps they did, thought Jack. There was a lot that he didn't know about this new world.

The one common thread he had found was that everything seemed like a caricature of something from the previous, Pre-War era. Of course, they only seemed like caricatures to him, the one who actually knew what the original things were like. For example there was Preston, a caricature of the revolutionary minuteman, ready to defend his home in a moment. Then, there were the gangsters that they had so easily dispatched, caricatures of Pre-War mobsters. Finally, in front of them stood a caricature of a Pre-War detective. It was as though all of these people found one or two characteristics of the old world and clung on to them for dear life, not really knowing what those things were truly like. It was as if the entire world just wanted to go back to "the way things were," or at least find a way to press forward while holding on to antebellum ideals. For Jack Parsons, it simply meant that everything he encountered so far served as a gut-wrenching reminder of the past.

"Nice to meet you two, though perhaps the circumstances could be better. Name's Nick Valentine."

"We know who you are," came Jack's curt reply.


	8. and the Hastily Improvised Surgery

**Jack Parsons and the Hastily Improvised Surgery**

Jack Parsons found himself in the "lobby" of Publick Occurences, holding a bloodied cybernetic brain augmenter in one hand and his pistol in the other. The past 24 hours of his life had been nothing short of insane. Looking behind him, he saw a well-worn couch. He decided it would do. He sank in to it and drifted off. His last thoughts before falling asleep were about Preston Garvey, and whether or not he was going to be okay.

He was awoken a couple hours later by Nick Valentine and Piper Wright whispering back and forth. They appeared to be making some sort of plans.

"You can't do that, Nick. First of all, the guy's been through enough as it is. Second, you have no idea how the procedure could affect you. What if the Institute takes over your mind?"

"I'll be fine, Piper. Nothing a beat-up old detective can't handle. As for our friend here, he's awake. Let him decide."

Then Jack saw both Piper and Nick look over at him, expectantly. Clearly they were making some sort of plan to use Kellog's "brain" to track down Shaun and the Institute. That was all well and good, but not as important to him right now.

"Where's Preston? Is he alright?" Jack asked, anxiety rising in his voice.

"He's going to be fine, kid. Doctor Sun took him as soon as you two stumbled into town. I'm not clear on all of the medical mumbo-jumbo, but the Doc said he's stable. How are _you_ doing?" Nick asked.

Jack took a breath. He hadn't stopped to consider it. Once he did though, the pain started flooding in. He had received a couple grazings from Institute rifles, resulting in laser burns on the shoulder and leg. He winced in pain. Though the Synths he and Preston encountered at the Fort weren't accurate, the bastards were persistent.

"I don't know how I'm doing. My entire world has changed. My closest friend, who I met a week ago, just took a bullet for me. I'm nursing burns that I gained at the hands of a robot that I never thought was possible. And apparently I have a pet dog. It's… a lot to take in," Jack confessed.

"Oh Jack, I'm so sorry," said Piper. "The truth is, we have no idea what you're going through. Things must be rough for you. What can we do to help?" she asked.

"I don't know," Jack responded. Every time that woman talked, she got a bit less irritating. However, she was still pretty annoying to him.

"Look, you two clearly have a plan for the piece of Kellogg's brain, or whatever. I'd love to hear about it, just a bit later. I need a minute."

He rose with some effort, and made his way out into the city. He thought about going to visit Preston Garvey, but first he stopped by Chem-I-Care.

The Chem-I-Care was a stand that sold all sorts of medicine and narcotics, with a man named Solomon as the sole proprietor. He seemed to be extremely easygoing, but he also ran one of the most profitable businesses in the Commonwealth. In the world before the war, it would not be anything close to legal. However, after the war, chem vendors became an essential fixture of society. Jack stepped up, feeling like a kid in a chemical candy store.

"Solomon. I need something for pain."

"You got it, my man. Physical or emotional?"

"Yes."

They had gone to track down Kellogg in one of the far corners of the Commonwealth, with a little bit of help from a canine with an incredible sense of smell. Turns out that he was out on some mission or other for the Institute, and was not too surprised to find Jack Parsons coming in, hot on his trail. The showdown happened at Fort Hagen, which before the war was a location owned and operated by Uncle Sam. Jack had never been there, but he knew what it was used for before the planet had exploded. It had housed an armored division of the United States Military, including vehicles and Power Armor units. 200 years later, it was housing an army of a different kind. When Preston and Jack got there, the whole place was crawling with Synths.

They were relatively easy to dispatch, and not well-versed on tactics, but that didn't stop them from scoring a few lucky hits here and there. However, at that point, nothing was going to stop the soldiers from reaching their target.

Jack Parsons met Kellogg in the command center, amidst desks and computers. It was not every day that you came face to face with a killer, much less the killer of your wife, and kidnapper of your son. Jack thought he would perhaps have something to say or do to Kellogg to inspire remorse. To torture or maim him before killing him. Or at least to give him a stern talking-to. However, when the moment finally arrived, the men didn't have much to say to each other.

"I'm surprised you made it this far," remarked Kellogg. Apparently the grizzled merc thought that the grizzled special operative didn't have it in him.

"Yeah, well, I did," came the response.

A moment of silence passed.

"Look, this is kind of awkward," said Jack. "Can we just skip the bullshit? You and I are both smart enough to realize that the situation dictates that one of us needs to die. You're not going to give me the information I need unless it is pried from your cold dead hands, right? And for you, anything short of my demise would be considered a failure by your employer."

"I mean, that's the long and short of it," agreed Kellogg.

"So, how are we doing this? Are we going to take ten paces, turn and shoot, or what?" asked Jack.

However, in the blink of an eye, Kellogg's pistol was out and pointed at the soldier. Preston saw what was coming and jumped in the way, taking a bullet to the shoulder in the process.

Jack seized the opportunity to draw his own piece and plug the mercenary with a couple of new belly buttons and a new nostril. A well-placed pulse grenade took care of the Synth bodyguards who had so politely let the two men have their conversation, just a few moments before.

A survey of the Kellogg-shaped corpse revealed rather quickly that he was cybernetically enhanced, and well, one thing led to another. Soon, Jack Parsons was carrying both the unconscious body of Preston Garvey and a robotic piece of Kellogg's brain back in the direction of Diamond City. Our hero had his revenge, which felt kinda nice. But in his mind, he was just getting started.


	9. and the Unexpected Backup

**Jack Parsons and the Unexpected Backup**

Doctor Brian Virgil, formerly of the Institute, was a very fearful man. That was why he currently found himself living in a cave near a nuclear crater. That was why his current roommates were a Protectron and two ever-vigilant automatic turrets. That was why he had turned himself into Super Mutant. That, and to resist the consistent radiation from the aforementioned nuclear crater.

That was also why he had left the Institute in the first place. They were making him make Super Mutants, after all. There's no telling what other kinds of heinous things they could be up to. Perhaps they saw him as dispensable. He saw what Synths beginning to be capable of, attacking innocent towns and replacing people. He just wanted to get ahead of the curve. So that's why he lived in the Glowing Sea. And that's why he was not surprised at all to find a strange man in front of him, wearing a suit of Power Armor.

"Did the Institute send you? Where's Kellog?" he demanded, attempting to show a brave face despite his growing fear. The man in Power Armor just stood there, silently. Almost menacingly.

"Is Kellogg attempting to sneak up behind me, as we speak? It's not going to work! One word and I can turn all of my robotic friends on you!" Virgil threatened.

At that, the suit of Power Armor opened up, and a blonde man of average height and athletic build slid out. Definitely not Kellogg.

"Sorry," the stranger apologized, "I forgot how to eject from T-51 suits. My COs back in Alaska would have been ashamed, but hey, they're dead," he grinned.

"Okay, what the hell is going on?" asked Brian Virgil.

"Right," the mysterious man admitted, "I can see how my sudden appearance could confuse and even alarm you. Let me cut to the chase. Kellogg's dead. I killed him. I'm looking for a way inside the Institute, which I know probably sounds crazy to you, since you went through great lengths to get away from them. But tell me what you know, and I'll go back where I came from and you can go back to… whatever you're working on here."

The mutant was dumbfounded. He was having such a normal day. Then a man shows up out of the blue claiming to have killed the greatest threat to his life, and wanted a way _in_ to the most dangerous organization in the wasteland. This had to be some kind of trap.

"How do I know you're not in cahoots with Kellogg? How do I know this isn't some kind of ploy to get me back there?"

"I thought you might ask as such!" came Jack's response. He rifled through his backpack for a moment, and procured a beat-up cybernetic pain inhibitor. He held it up to Virgil's face.

"This doohicky, as you can probably tell, is Institute tech. And it came from _inside_ Kellogg's head, as you can probably tell. Plus, there's this big iron on my hip," he said, showcasing a .44 revolver that Kellogg used as his signature weapon.

"You… you really killed him," mutterd Virgil, astounded. "And if you're capable of killing Kellogg… well, this might just work."

"What might just work?"

"There is a way into the Institute, like you have mentioned. You might know that they use short-range teleportation technology. I theorize that if you intercepted one of their signals… but there's a caveat."

"And what might that be?" the stranger asked.

"You're going to have to kill a Courser."

* * *

The words, "You're going to have to kill a Courser" echoed in the mind of Jack Parsons as he made his way up the stairs into Greenetech genetics. That was a tall order, even for him. Coursers were walking weapons, synthetic soldiers for the Institute specially designed for the retrieval of wayward Synths. As such, they were trained on things like infiltration and combat, and definitely not trained on things like mercy and compassion. Jack had found out about their existence during a conversation with Garvey about the current threats facing the Commonwealth, and it was just his luck that he would have to face one. And unfortunately, Preston was busy setting up defenses at Tenpines Bluff, a small farm that had decided to join the Minutemen, after Jack helped them out of a bind.

He was about to walk in when he heard a familiar, mildly irritating voice call out from behind him.

"Say, you seen any vault dwellers nearby? You can't miss 'em, they have a Pip-Boy and look like a fish out of water."

"Piper!" Jack called out, "How did you find me?"

At that question, Nick Valentine stepped around the corner.

"What, you think Kellogg is the only person that Dogmeat can track?" the Synth Detective asked with a trademark smirk. The dog in question came in to view behind Nick, tail wagging.

"We hadn't heard from you since you and Nick parted ways in Goodneighbor. We wanted to know if you had made it out of the Glowing Sea. We were worried," confessed Piper.

Jack's eyed narrowed slightly. These people were actually worried about him? That was a change. Most people that he had met in the Commonwealth had wanted him dead or had just wanted him to do them a favor. Nothing like legitimate care.

"Umm, thanks," he scratched the back of his head in mild embarrassment, "the truth is I found Brian Virgil. He knows a way in to the Institute. The only catch is, it involves tracking down a Courser and stripping them for parts."

Nick Valentine let out a low whistle. "A Courser, huh? That's no joke. Looks like you could use a helping hand." At this, Nick and Piper both brandished their revolvers.

"Are you guys sure?" Jack asked.

"Believe it or not, Blue, I've been in my fair share of dangerous situations. Part of the job. Nothing that I can't gab or fight my way out of. Besides, we're talking about the story of the century! A man out of time, tracking down a lost son, with a legitimate way into the Institute? I'll throw my lot in for that," Piper declared with a grin.

"As for me," Valentine began, "You saved my hide back in Park Street Station. If Skinny Malone had his way with me, I'd be a pile of spare parts out in that Vault. I owe you one. And I promised to help you find Shaun. As far as Dogmeat, well I think he's down for whatever."

The dog in question let out a friendly bark.

"Well, alright then. You're clearly in, no sense trying to convince you otherwise." Jack started to adopt the old role of a covert squad leader. "If we're doing this, then we're doing it right. Quick, clean, and quiet. You follow my lead in there and we'll make out just fine. Got it?"

"Yes sir!" said Nick, in his half-patronizing manner. Piper merely nodded. Dogmeat, incapable as he was of human communication, sat there and scratched behind his ear. Jack Parsons took it as an affirmative.

"Let's do this."


	10. and the Worthy Opponent

**Jack Parsons and the Worthy Opponent**

They moved in to Greenetech Genetics like a small military squad. Even Dogmeat, for his part, crouched low and stayed quiet. It was evident that they were not about to initiate the first fight in the building. They saw what appeared to be dead military members strewn about the lobby, and a higher ranking member was issuing orders over the PA system. It seemed like the Courser was in a mission to the top of the building. This struck Jack as tactically advantageous; they could clean up the wreckage and not arouse too much suspicion with their gunshots.

"What can you tell me about these folks," Jack whispered, nudging a body with his combat rifle.

"Gunners. They are a mercenary group that operate here in the Commonwealth. It's my understanding that they fashion themselves like Pre-War military unit, albeit a ruthless one," Nick answered.

"They might dress differently, but they are no better than raiders when it comes to their morals," Piper added. For Jack, this was both good news and a touch of familiarity from his old life. He was used to operating against trained soldiers, and if they were anything like military units of old, then they would have a degree of predictability.

They advanced past the lobby without event, passing more bodies. Apparently the Courser was taking care of business, which was helpful now, but proved his combat prowess. They advanced into a walkway that overlooked another section of the lobby, when suddenly a couple of windows on the far side began opening.

"Get back, now!" Jack Parsons barked, correctly guessing that they had somehow wandered into a trap. Behind the shutters were a couple of machine turrets, and they roared to life just as the gang scrambled back behind cover.

"Damnit," Jack thought, "already pinned." However, Nick Valentine came to the rescue. As soon as the guns died down he sprang up, and placed a .45 round into each turret, instantly deactivating them. He ducked back behind the wall when a few Gunners began to approach, weapons drawn.

"Who's out there?" they demanded. They did not want to have to face a threat from both above and below. This day was already not going according to plan for them. Jack held up his hand, motioning the other two to remain still. He mouthed that he wanted them to jump up at the same time and each take one guy. He had the guy on the left.

"Go!" he whispered, and they sprung up, each plugging their target.

"Alright, let's move up," Jack ordered. "By the way, where'd you learn to do that thing with the turrets?" Nick shrugged.

"As far as the timing, I'm machine enough to know when a turret needs to cool down. As for the marksmanship, I have all of the memories of a decorated police officer."

They moved up through the building. At the next squad of Gunners, Dogmeat took point. He rushed ahead of the crew and dive tackled the nearest enemy, going for the jugular. A pop from Jack's pistol put the mercenary out of his misery. Valentine downed a target, putting two bullets center of mass. They seemed to be quite the outfit. If the Commonwealth had more people like this, then maybe the Minutemen could make a real go of it. That was a thought to be reflected on later, however, as they climbed a building full of angry mercenaries and at least one angry android.

Under Jack's leadership, they made it to the top, sustaining no casualties. Both Piper and Nick were proving to be more combat proficient than he first realized, and both of them were quick to learn the various hand signals and commands that Jack made. Dogmeat, too, was extremely responsive to orders. Perhaps he had a mutation that gave him exceptional intelligence. At any rate, Jack Parsons began to feel alive again, free from the weight of his anxiety. It seemed counterintuitive, but it made sense. When things died down, and Jack was left with his thoughts, the crushing weight of everything that was going on, and the uncertainty of the future got to him. He began to worry and seek to drown out the inner voices and memories from the past. However, when the action kicked up again, anxious thoughts went away. He had something to focus on, something concrete and tangible. Perhaps that's why he was drawn to combat situations in the first place.

They finally reached a quieter section of the building, near the top. They slowed down, listening. A semi-robotic voice came from above them, apparently asking questions to a Gunner. Things began to come into focus. The Courser had won, and was interrogating a couple of captives on how to open a door. Apparently, whatever he sought was behind it. Jack had the group hold, and took a minute to strategize.

"Valentine, you know the Institute better than anyone else. How should we play this?" he asked.

"Look, even though I'm a Synth myself, I have no memory of the Institute. The only thing I have to go off with Coursers is the fact that nobody's walked away from an encounter with one yet." Nick surmised.

"But we have the element of surprise!" whispered Piper, enthusiastically.

"You four," came the robotic voice, "I know you're down there. How about you come up here, so we can talk?"

Ashamed at their lack of sneaking skills, the gang made their way upstairs to face the Courser. He was there, holding two Gunners hostage, with a scared-looking woman behind a glass window. From the modus operandi of Courser in general, Jack figured that the woman was an escaped Synth.

The Courser stood there in a black leather jacket, Institute pistol in hand. His face looked emotionless, despite the obvious combat he had been through. The Courser's eyes alighted on Nick Valentine.

"You. You are a defective model. You should have been processed," he stated, coldly and emotionlessly.

"Nice to meet you too," said Nick dryly.

The Courser, who they would later find out was named Z2-47, didn't have a chance to reply, because a .45 round shot directly between his eyes. He fell straight backward onto the floor, and his pistol discharged into the ceiling when he hit the ground.

"Sorry, I just hate it when they monologue," explained Piper, the barrel of her pistol still smoking.


	11. and the Fortress of Hope

**Jack Parsons and the Fortress of Hope**

"Mother of God…" Jack remarked, dumbfounded.

They were in the courtyard of the castle. Out of all the remains recently deceased Mirelurks surrounding them, one stood out above the rest. Jack and Preston were beholding the carcass of a recently defeated Mirelurk Queen.

The monstrosity looked to be some kind of mutated crab, except that it was the size of a mobile home, and extremely pissed off back when it was alive. It walked on six legs and swung two pincered arms like an enraged barbarian. It spat some kind of venomous solution as it advanced. Our hero was very, very glad to see it dead.

"Say, whose idea was it to bring the missile launcher?" Jack asked.

"Private Regis Johnson, sir," Preston answered.

"Well, give that guy a promotion. He just saved all of our asses."

The Minutemen had gone down to the Castle, which was well, an old castle, to reclaim their old base of operations. Jack Parsons was helping them develop into an organization that could stand on its own, in exchange for help getting into the Institute. With this new addition to Minutemen territory, they were finally ready to build a device which could teleport them into the Institute as if they were Coursers. The Minutemen had also grown the habit of calling Jack "The General," much to his chagrin. He did not want to be seen as their leader, per se. He just wanted to find his son. Besides, he knew himself well enough to know that they were probably looking for someone with a little bit more mental fortitude. Not somebody who had grown accustomed to drink himself to sleep. Not somebody who had just lied his way into the Railroad in order to get the Courser's chip analyzed. But more on them later.

Jack ordered that the men carry out their wounded and then the bodies of the defeated creatures. The total score was one dead minuteman (by getting his head nearly knocked off from a claw swipe), one wounded minuteman (From getting hit straight on by the acid), and twelve dead mirelurks. All in a days work.

"Sir, how are we going to move the queen's body away? It's massive!" demanded a nearby corporal.

"Work together, chop it into pieces, burn it where it lies if you have to," Jack answered, "If we wait then they're going to start reeking."

Jack took a step inside to talk with his lieutenant, Preston Garvey.

"Sir, we can set up a command post in here. There's still some weaponry left over from last time. Looks like nobody's gone near here for years-except the Lurks," Preston reported.

"That's great. Do what you have to do. Get this place fortified. I'll work on the radio. Sturges!" He called as he noticed the repairman walking by, "Let's do this."

They spent the better part of the afternoon laying wire and jury-rigging power pylons to the radio tower in the center of the courtyard. They breathed a sigh of relief when the system came on, and they could broadcast once more.

"Anything you'd like to say to the people, my man?" Sturges asked. Jack took a moment to think. He didn't want to start with "People of the Commonwealth," like the Brotherhood of Steel had when they floated in on their flying battleship. Too passe. Then, inspiration struck.

"Hey everyone, Jack Parsons here. Um. How about airline food? Sorry, old world joke. You may know me as the general of the Commonwealth Minutemen. I'm still getting used to that. It's quite the promotion. I only ever made sergeant when I was in the actual military. Well-Not that the minutemen aren't actually military, it's just different-I don't know. I'm sorry. I'm not much of a speech maker. I just wanted you all to know that we took the Castle back over, and you're going to hear a lot more broadcasts from this channel. Uh, the Minutemen are back. That's all, I think."

Jack Parsons leaned away from the microphone and looked over at Preston Garvey for some kind of feedback.

"Well General, it's something. I'll have our radio operator put it on repeat… hopefully some settlements out there will be more willing to join the cause!" he finished, enthusiastically.

The settling-in process took the rest of the evening. Cleaning up the Mirelurk Queen got significantly easier when one of the Minutemen found a Ripper inside the Castle walls. It was not long before they posted a couple of sentinels on the wall and turned in for the night in some sleeping bags they had brought in with them. Preston and Jack set up in the most secure corner of the Castle. It appeared to be the old General's Quarters. People in post-nuclear America knew very little about sleeping in their own room. Almost every sleeping situation was highly communal, for protection. Preston stretched out and sighed.

"Good day," he summarized.

"Yeah," said Jack, with a little bit less certainty in his voice.

"Something bothering you, sir?"

"Yes? No? I don't know." He fell silent. He studied the man across from him. Preston Garvey, of the Commonwealth Minutemen. A man who had grown up in this Wasteland. A man who had probably only had clean food or water a couple of times in his life. One who was only accustomed to having a set of clothes, or two. One with no formal military experience. And yet, he was more well-adjusted to what was happening out here. Jack was the one with mental, physical, and psychological training, but found himself on the verge of falling apart most days.

He lay, staring at the ceiling for a while. He couldn't sleep. And there wasn't a damn drop to drink in the whole Castle. He got up, telling Preston to mind his own business when he asked what was going on. He stalked out to the Castle Courtyard, and then onto the walls. It was a clear night, full of stars. That was one thing he noticed about life in the Commonwealth. You could see the stars more clearly with all of the lights being knocked out by the collapse of society. He stared out into the ocean, south of the Castle. He wondered what else might be down there. If gigantic Mirelurks sometimes got pissed and wandered out of the depths. Could there be mutated sharks or whales out there? That was a weird thought. I suppose it beat all the other thoughts that seemed to go through his head. Flashbacks to wartime, flashbacks to civilian life, flashbacks to the day Shaun was taken. Worries about the future, about what might happen in the Institute. And… he found himself starting to care about some of the people he had met. Valentine, Preston, Sturges, hell even Piper sometimes. In a word, he felt fear. He took a moment to steady his breathing and decided to try to go back to sleep.

He had no idea how all of these problems were going to solve themselves, problems with getting the Minutemen started, with finding Shaun, with coping with his new life. But he know they wouldn't be solved by standing and looking at the water.


	12. And the Sixty Year Miscalculation

**Jack Parsons and the 60-Year Miscalculation**

"Well, I can't say that I've ever hijacked a classical radio frequency in order to relay someone's molecules into a shadowy underground institution, but there's a first time for everything. The math checks out, anyway," said Sturges.

Jack Parsons didn't understand half of the words that Sturges had said during the conversation, but the man seemed to know what he was talking about. At any rate, this engineer was his best chance of getting to his son. He was so close. Up to this point, he had woken from cryogenic sleep, tracked the mercenary who took his son from Diamond City to Fort Hagen, put a bullet in his brain, rode Kellogg's memories straight to Brian Virgil, taken down a Courser with a little help from his friends, taken a chip from its brain to a secret underground railroad group, taken over a castle, and built a device that seemed to be able to get him into the Institute. Needless to say, it had been a wild ride until now. However, that adventure was probably going to pale in comparison with what he was about to encounter.

He stood on the platform of the molecular relay device. This was a 20 foot tall structure with weird ray-shooting looking things, next to a computer, next to a radio antenna, all scrapped together in the last week or so using plans that were drawn up by a confirmed madman named Tinker Tom, of all things. Theoretically speaking, he had no idea if this would work. But Sturges was mostly sure, and he had learned to trust Sturges.

The man turned on the machine. Jack heard a mechanical humming, slowly growing in intensity. Jack was filled with great fear, slowly growing in intensity. What if they got the science wrong? What if this machine took his molecules apart and couldn't put them back together? What if it sent him someplace far away from the intended target? He tried to control his breathing and was struggling. Now Sturges was saying some instruction or other about getting information from a terminal inside the Institute using a Network Scanner. Jack could hardly pay attention, with the noise and anxiety rising.

As soon as everything reached its crescendo, he heard a zapping noise and everything went black.

The next thing he knew, he was inside a dimly lit room with one exit, right in front of him. He briefly wondered if he had died, and was in fact seeing the afterlife. Then a voice came from somewhere above him.

"Welcome, I've been expecting you. Please, step forward," said the disembodied voice. At that point, Jack Parsons was sure he was dead.

"Is that you God? Wow, this is crazy," he said, feeling oddly peaceful amidst everything. He stepped forward into another dimly lit room with a terminal and an elevator. Wait, this didn't look like the afterlife. The voice came on and shattered the illusion.

"Welcome to the Institute. I am Father, the director of this great organization. You may have your preconceived notions of what we are about, but come, we have much to discuss. I hope you can be persuaded to see us in a much different light," the voice announced.

All of the sudden, the anxiety came rushing back. Jack wasn't dead, he was successful. That meant that anything could happen down here.

He advanced to the elevator. Instead of an alcove in the wall with metal doors like he was used to, this elevator was in the center of the room, circular, and glass. Clearly whoever entered this elevator was meant to see a panorama. With no option but forward, he entered the elevator.

It eased down, silently, passing through the floor, and then through the ceiling of a vast subterranean complex. Out of his elevator, Jack could see a huge atrium, completely lit up. It was… clean. That was the first thing he noticed. He was used to everything he came in contact with having some kind of wear and tear from the past 200 years, except this place. The next thing he noticed is that it was advanced. He saw advanced lighting, trees growing indoors, working plumbing, and everything appeared fully functional. It blew his mind. The elevator kept going down, past the main room, which was beginning to bustle with activity. Before going through the floor, he saw synths patrolling, scientists walking to and fro, and even a couple of neat-looking children running around. From all appearances, this was a utopia. This was far from the shadowy, evil empire imagined by so many on the surface. He had been here five minutes and already had a lot to think about.

The elevator came to a stop in a brightly lit corridor. He heard Father's voice over the speaker once more:

"As you can see, we have much to discuss. However, I know that you are not here as the leader of the Minuteman, or as a representative of the Commonwealth at all. You're here for your son. Step into the next room, if you will."

At this, Jack's heart began to pound even harder than before. Father's last comment showed that the Institute knew about Jack and his journey up to this point. That, and this was the moment he had been waiting for. He was finally going to see his son. He was going to see Shaun. Everything else could wait.

The doors opened into a small room. Inside of that room was an even smaller room with transparent walls, so that one could see inside of it. The outer room had a desk and a terminal, and led out deeper into the facility. The smaller room was modeled after a Pre-War bedroom for a pre-teen boy. And inside that room, was a ten year old boy named Shaun. This was the moment Jack had longed for. He was not surprised to see a ten-year-old in place of an infant; he had seen this very boy inside of Kellogg's memories. He got his math wrong as far as when Shaun was taken and when he had woken up. That was no big deal. He still had his son, and he had time, so long as things with the Institute turned out somewhat favorably. There were still a lot of questions to answer. For now, he was going to greet his son.

"Shaun!" he exclaimed.

Now what Jack expected to see what some confusion, followed by reconciliation and a happy reunion. However, what he saw was confusion, followed by terror.

"Who are you…?" he asked, "Father! There's a strange man in here!"

"No, Shaun, it's me. Your dad! I came for you!" Jack tried to explain. He didn't understand what was happening. How come his boy didn't recognize him?

"Father! Help me!" he cried.

"No! Shaun! I'm your father, that's me!" Jack shouted, pounding his fist on the glass that separated them. At this point Shaun started crying. Then, the door to the room opened and a sixty-year old man walked in. He said some kind of code, and young Shaun shut down, almost as if he was some kind of robot in disguise. Jack Parsons was understandably traumatized.

"Okay, what the hell is going on? Are you Father? Where's Shaun? You had better start talking!" Jack said, instinctively reaching for his side arm. The sixty-year old man puts his hands up gently, but remained calm.

"I can see how this could be an emotional experience for you."

"You think?"

"Believe me, everything will be answered. Failing to relax in this situation, however, could cost you everything," he warned.

"Talk," said Jack, moving his hand away from his gun. The man took a deep breath.

"Yes, I am the man known as Father. I see how it could be bad timing, but I wanted to take advantage of this situation to test this model's reaction to stressful and confusing situations," he explained.

"So, you made a synth that looks like my son and put him in a room where I would find him, hoping to run some kind of experiment on me!? This is bullshit!" Jack complained.

"Yeah, well now I can see how it would be in bad taste," Father admitted. Jack Parsons sighed.

"Where's my son?" he asked.

"I"m your son," Father answered.

"No, seriously," Jack replied.

"Yes, seriously," Father replied.

"If you don't tell me where my son is in the next ten seconds, I am going to take this pistol and shoot you in the neck," Jack warned.

"Okay, let me explain!"

"Ten, nine, eight, seven…"

"I'm your son!" Father insisted, "Look, when you saw Shaun as a ten year old, you realize that you must have miscalculated how long you were asleep. What if I told you that you weren't out for ten years, but for sixty? Could you believe that?" he asked.

At that moment, Jack knew that he was right. He didn't want to believe it, because it was going to change a lot of things for him, but he knew that it made sense. The man standing before him resembled him closely enough. He knew that he could have miscalculated the years he was asleep. Shaun must have been taken by the Institute and raised as their own. He even rose to the top, which gave Jack a little surge of pride. But, that meant that the boy had basically lived his entire life already, without knowing his father. That meant that his son had been raised in the same organization that thought it was alright to send mercenaries to kill people and take their children, or to murder innocent wastelanders and replace them with androids. It definitely meant that he was willing to stage a fake reunion between a man and his son just to measure the reactions. This was a lot to take in.

"I think I'm going to be sick…" Jack said.


	13. and the Difficult Decision

**Jack Parsons and the Difficult Decision**

Jack lay awake in an infirmary bed deep in the Institute. Outside of his room, scientists were evaluating his life signs and speaking in hushed tones. Is this Father's father? The one who fought through countless challenges in the wasteland before getting here? Why does he seem so frail? Jack sighed and leaned back. It had been an eventful month, that was for sure.

Shortly after meeting Father inside of the Institute, and discovering that Father and Shaun were one and the same, Jack Parsons had had a panic attack and, and things turned violent. Normally, when somebody makes a direct attempt on the life of the Institute's Director, they are put down without question or remorse. In this case though, they incapacitated Jack with a shock baton and awaited further orders. Jack was not sure if they should have just offed him then and there. If that was the case, then he wouldn't have to sort through this mess of decisions and emotions. Everything he had thought about the Institute and the wasteland was wrong. His son was not an infant, or a young boy, but an elderly man. They had essentially missed having a life together. Upon hearing that news, Jack had gone a little bit crazy. Now, he had the option to continue working with the Institute for the son that he barely knew, or shaking hands and parting ways, so to speak. Father had come by the infirmary earlier that day to make such an offer. Rarely did somebody get the opportunity to simply walk out and break off all contact without things going south for them. So Jack had to choose between complete allegiance or exile.

He had not forgotten his mandate to scout the Institute for information and potential weak points from the Minutemen. He also had not forgotten how radically opposed that Railroad were to all of them. It seemed as though the lines were clearly drawn between all of these factions, but the people therein made things a little bit more blurry. At this point, an elderly, bearded man walked into the room where Jack lay. Upon focusing his eyes, he recognized his son Father.

"How are you doing, Jack?" he asked. He seemed concerned yet calm. This was the demeanor of a scientist, one who had learn to detach his emotions from his results.

"Fine, I guess. Feels like I got zapped in the ass by a mild lightning bolt, but besides that," he answered. On the inside, Jack was a bit grieved that his son had decided to refer to him by his first name instead of something like "Father," or "Dad," or even the colloquial "Pops." However, not was definitely not the time to show weakness or vulnerability. He had no idea what this man and the Institute were even like anymore.

"That's good, because I'm going to need you to do something for me," Shaun declared.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Jack asked, instinctively rubbing his backside in pain.

"I'm going to be completely honest with you, Jack. You've earned at least that much. When you found yourself awake and released into the Commonwealth a couple of months back, that was me. I called it some kind of experiment. I was going to see just how far the paternal instinct could take a person."

"That… is simultaneously insulting and flattering," Jack answered.

"I knew of your history with the military from your Vault-Tec records. I knew that if anyone could successfully make it here, it would be you. In fact, I was hoping you would," Father confessed. This took Jack aback.

"Elaborate," he commanded.

"Well, maybe I have grown too… philosophical, in my old age. Raised here in the Institute, I honestly cared and thought little about the people above, in the Commonwealth. When I learned that one of my biological parents was still alive in cryostasis, I was curious, but I did nothing about it. Until recently. Sometimes with age comes regret. I wondered, was it possible for us to have any kind of relationship? Could you even make it here alive?"

"Well, I proved one of those. I did all of this for you, Shaun," stated Jack.

At this, Father averted his gaze and continued.

"However, your outburst upon learning of my true identity has destroyed the little credibility that you have here, among the other department heads. It has never been my style to go over their heads, so I want them to learn to trust you," he stated, remaking eye contact on the last line. Jack pinched the bridge of his nose.

"So you whored me out to do something for them."

"If that's how you want to see it, yes. Before we go any further, have you decided to work with us? If not, this conversation will be our last. You can leave this infirmary and we'll relay you back to the surface at a destination of your choosing. From then on you will be considered a neutral party by the Institute, but unable to return or have _any_ kind of relationship with us," rattled off Shaun, as if he had rehearsed it.

"And what do you want?" Jack asked.

"That's irrelevant."

"Whatever. What's the job?"

"Well, it's a simple case of synth retrieval," stated Father, somewhat cryptically.

"I'm guessing it's a little bit more than that."

"It should be no problem for a person with your set of skills. During your time in Alaska, I am certain you handled field work much more dangerous than what we have in mind," Father answered.

"This sounds convenient for you. If I die out there, your organization hasn't lost any resources. If I live, then you have a new Kellogg to work for you and your cronies. Is that what waking me up was really about? Kellogg beginning to outlive his usefulness, and needing someone else for _field work?_" Jack asked, hoping to dig into Father's psyche just a little bit.

"That's quite enough. Do you want the assignment or not? This is a time-sensitive issue, and I need an answer. If it helps you, realize that we're sending our best Courser unit to accompany you," Father stared simply. To accompany, or to babysit me? Jack thought.

"Fine, I'll do it. What did you have in mind?" asked Jack. He couldn't help but feel like he had just admitted some kind of defeat.

"A little awhile ago, one of our Synths escaped and was given a new life with new memories, presumably by the Railroad. Now, he believes that his name is Gabriel. Our Watchers revealed that he had joined a Raider gang, and as fate would have it, quickly rose through the ranks. He now leads a detachment of Raiders out of the floating fortress known as Libertalia. The 'job' is simple. Find him, and retrieve him using a Recall Code that I will teach you. As I mentioned before, a Courser named X6-88 will come with you, to assist in relaying Gabriel back to the Institute for processing."

Speaking of processing, this was a lot to take in. Jack Parsons knew about Libertalia. The Minutemen wouldn't send a patrol within a mile of the place. It was too risky. Now, it was where he had to go in order to earn Father's trust.

"Once you are cleared medically, we'll have you relayed back to your signal interceptor to equip yourself and then rendezvous with our Courser unit. By the way, clever thinking with the molecular relay," he added.

At that, Jack felt a pang of guilt. He thought of Sturges and the Minutemen, and how he was taking longer in the Institute than they had perhaps expected. Were they worried about him? Jack sighed and stared up at the ceiling.

"One last thing, Jack."

"What is it, Shaun?"

"Good luck."


	14. and the Sticky Situation

**Jack Parsons and the Sticky Situation**

Our hero made his way up to the dock house. In the dying light of the evening he saw a man silhouetted against the sky and water. He could make out the outline of the signature trench coat of the Coursers. Jack had seen one out in the Commonwealth before. They used to be a bit scarier. He knew that this one was named X6-88, and was programmed to assist him in his current mission, in whatever way possible. Jack had come alone, and had a plan. He stepped up to the shadowy figure.

"Alright, listen up because we gotta make this quick. The Minutemen think that I'm out on a routine patrol, and I want to be back to the FOB by sunrise," he explained.

"Nice to meet you too," said X6, flatly.

"You and I both know you don't have real feelings," stated Jack. He could not see Synths as anything beyond mere machines. "So shut the hell up and listen."

To Jack's mild surprise, the Courser listened. For some hard-to-explain reason, it made him miss Codsworth.

"In my mind, ducking from boat to boat while dismantling an entire city of Raiders is not even an option. We'll get riddled like swiss cheese out there. So what I propose is that we attack by sea. We can swim _under_ Libertalia until we reach the main boat and with any luck, find a way on board. Then we get to Gabriel, the quieter the better. So my question for you is, how long can you hold your breath? Will getting down there fry your circuitry, or what?"

X6 stared at Jack blankly for a moment, before responding.

"I suppose we'll find out. I'm on you," he replied.

Jack Parsons popped a Rad-X and felt the familiar tingle of the skin on his hands and feet. The water was nearly irreversibly irradiated, and these magic pills would help his body resist its effects. Rad-X went from a specialty drug before the Great War to an absolute necessity for anyone wandering the wasteland. Jack asked his companion if he needed any, but th Synth simply shook his head. Here goes nothing, Jack thought to himself. He felt for his silenced 10mm pistol, which he had placed in a waterproof plastic bag. It wasn't the fanciest measure, but it would have to do.

They went out to the edge of the dock. and swam out. At this point, it was getting very dark. Slowly but surely they swam over to their target destination, pausing and diving if they thought a nearby Raider was going to catch wind of them. Eventually they reached their main destination, a half-submerged ship that Raiders had begun to settle on. Jack Parsons guessed correctly that their target would be on the top level. Raider bosses were nothing if not pompous.

Conveniently, he found a set of stairs leading directly into the water, where he and his companion could climb up. They did so.

"X6 Bot, activate stealth protocols," whispered Jack.

"That's pretty insensitive," X6-88 responded, but he dropped to a crouch nonetheless.

"We're going to keep this quick and quiet. Do not go weapons loud unless I tell you. Is that clear?" Jack asked. X6 nodded.

They made their way up a level into what appeared to be a common living area. Here, they sighted their first enemy operative, a Raider who was smoking a cigarette while looking out at the water. Easy pickings. Jack crept up behind him, jammed the barrel of his pistol into the man's back, and tapped the trigger twice, catching the Raider's body as it fell. He let it down easy and dragged it into a darker corner of the room. So far, so good. No alarm was raised yet. He motioned to X6-88 that they were going to make their way up a level. There, they found two enemies, and simultaneously took them out. This was going easy, almost a little bit too easy. On the next level they found a Raider sitting in an easy chair, clutching a sniper rifle. He scanned the dark horizon, apparently keeping watch. Too bad he was looking for all of the wrong threats. Jack Parsons plugged him from across the room, and he slumped down in his chair.

At this point, the two men could hear the din of conversation a couple floors above them. Apparently there was some kind of party happening upstairs. There was the clink of glasses, laughter at a joke, and one noise that sounded a little bit like a whimper. This gathering could be tactically advantageous, what with the Raiders upstairs having their guard down. Jack and X6 continued to make their way up the boat, at one point entering an indoor section to the ship. Nobody was home. They stopped at a ladder. They could tell from the noise that the party was directly above them.

"Alright, you ready to do this?" Jack asked.

"Well, what's the plan?"

"We bolt up there, drop a couple of Raiders, hopefully force a surrender, I say the recall code, and you zap back to the Institute with Gabriel."

"And if they don't surrender?"

"We drop every last one of the bastards… Except the target of course."

They decided to remain stealthy until they had reached the top level, if possible. Hopefully the ladder opened up into an area in which they could take cover from the party. Jack's heart began racing. He could not tell if it was fear or excitement. It seems as though the only time those two emotions were indistinguishable was when his life was on the line. He briefly thought about sending X6-88 in first, just in case he would be met by a hail of bullets. But no, that was coward thinking. He decided to lead the way.

He slowly crept up the ladder, the Courser close behind him. He slowly and quietly lifted up the hatch and peered up. He noticed a distinct lack of party noises. Looking around, he saw the the legs of Raiders standing stock still. Waiting. Shit.

"You can come up now!" shouted one Raider in particular. Jack stayed still, on the ladder.

"That doesn't seem like a very good idea. How do I know you aren't going to blast me as soon as my head comes up out of this hole?" Jack asked, attempting to buy some time. Now, his mind was racing. He could abandon the op and circle back around to try again later. However, by then the Raiders could either be more prepared or gone. If he failed this op, there was no guarantee that he would ever be allowed back at the Institute. No guarantee he'd see Shaun again. No, he was going to have to go up, and then think fast. It had been awhile since he was in a good old fashioned shootout.

He climbed up the ladder, and his trusty Courser companion quickly followed. They emerged onto the top of the ship, which had been converted into a Raider HQ. Makeshift platforms and dirty mattresses abounded. Standing directly across from them, and flanked by a couple of cronies on each side, was Gabriel, their target. But one thing that had not accounted for: He was holding his pistol to the head of a normal commonwealth woman. They had stumbled into a hostage situation.

"No sudden moves, alright?" commanded Gabriel. The woman was whimpering, and begging to eb let go.

And so Jack Parsons found himself caught between a rock and a hard place. He needed to secure the target so that he could keep ties with the Institute, but he did not want an innocent woman to die. Plus, they were a little bit outnumbered.

"Look, things are not as they seem… screw it, there's no way that I'm going to successfully convince you that you're actually an Institute Synth with false memories who somehow got to be in charge of a Raider gang, am I?" he asked. Gabriel's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and then anger.

"None of your stupid sciencey mumbo jumbo tricks, alright? I will shoot this bitch right now!" he threatened. Hmm. Jack was running out of options.

"I don't see any way of this ending well for everyone, do you?" he asked to the Courser at his side.

"Nope. To be honest with you, it was a tactical error to climb the ladder at all. Should have thrown some kind of tactical grenade up and disabled the lot of them," X6-88 surmised.

"Well damn, should have thought of that."


	15. and the Authority Complex

**Jack Parsons and the Authority Complex**

"Look, dammit, I'm not expecting you to understand. I'm just stating that I wish it had gone down differently," said Jack as he set down his glass of whiskey. He had drained it. Next to the now-empty glass was whiskey bottle on the coffee table.

"Some collateral damage is to be expected. Retrieving B5-92-or Gabriel as you were so fond of calling him-was the primary objective, and saving the woman's life was secondary. We had to achieve the primary objective at the cost of the secondary, which is very common in my field assignments," X6-88 replied, matter of factly. He had not touched the whiskey. Jack took a deep sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I understand the _logic_ of it, the logic is not the part that I'm struggling with. I get what had to happen in that scenario, and I understand that once we were up there, the woman's chances of survival were slim to none. I'm struggling with the emotion, the guilt of it. If I had taken a moment to think, perhaps she would still be alive. I didn't even get to know her name," Jack complained.

"I fail to see how learning the woman's name would have led to greater success in the mission," X6 countered.

"Damn, did somebody turn your relational, emotional matrix off? A woman died, and it's our fault!" Jack said in a heated tone. He took a breath and poured himself another glass of whiskey.

"We were not the ones who pulled the trigger," stated the Courser. At that, Jack fell silent, and kept drinking. They were in Jack Parsons new Institute dormitory, awaiting a debriefing of the operation with Justin Ayo, the head of the Synth Retention Bureau. After that, Jack was going to head topside and lay low with the Minutemen for a while, so that he would not arouse suspicion of turning to the Institute. Both factions wanted him completely aligned to their cause, and he had lost track of whether he was a single, double, or triple agent at this point. There was also the Brotherhood of Steel to think about.

Of course, it was at this moment that Father decided to walk in.

"Ah, good. I see you're making yourself at home. I have some good news! The heads of the various departments are looking at your excursion favorably, and have decided to allow you to continue to work for the Institute."

"That's great."

"In fact, we have another job for you."

"Of course you do," Jack replied. Brushing off the slight, Father continued.

"We have gotten wind of a couple of high-value Synths at Bunker Hill. In fact, we may have stumbled onto one of the Railroad's operations in the Commonwealth. After your debrief with Justin Ayo, the two of you are to head to Bunker Hill, rendezvous with an extraction team, and get those Synths back," Father said.

"Sounds easy enough," Jack responded.

"The situation has been slightly complicated," Father added, "both the Brotherhood and Railroad have caught wind somehow. Our Watchers have detected a Brotherhood strike team and significant Railroad heavies in the area. It is very uncharacteristic of them to make such a show of force, which most likely indicates a vulnerability in the Railroad and an opportunity for the Brotherhood to gain the upper hand in our conflict. Needless to say, we will need a superior show of force, regardless of the risks."

Damn, there goes my chances of working with either of those groups again, thought Jack. At least the Minutemen weren't involved in this one.

"Can't I at least get a breather?"

"Time is of the essence," Father stated. With that, he turned heel and walked out of the room. Jack heaved a sigh, and then stood up and walked out himself. X6 came right after him. They made their way down one of the Institute's gigantic circular staircases. At first, the brightly lit rooms here made Jack Parsons think of progress and enlightenment. However, now the light felt intrusive, scrutinizing. When they got to the ground floor they made a turn and headed to one of the Institute's subdepartments: The Synth Retention Bureau. The acting director, Justin Ayo, was just inside. One his right stood a technician who ushered X6-88 into a nearby chair and began to run some diagnostics, ostensibly to see if the unit needed any repair between missions. Jack kind of wished that he had somebody to fix him in between combat runs, but that was neither here nor there.

"You're late," Justin Ayo declared, in his condescending manner.

"I had an impromptu meeting with Father-And believe me-I wish that I could skip it," Jack said, defensively. Justin Ayo reminded him of brass back in the military that he had a hard time respecting.

"Hmph, I'm sorry you hated your exclusive time with our organization's leader."

"Whatever man, just ask what you're going to ask and let's get on with our lives," Jack replied, already over it.

The acting director handed Jack a worksheet attached to a clipboard. It had a ton of bureaucratic questions on it. The department wanted to know if they were spotted by any topsiders, what kind of countermeasures they made against detection, how many rounds they fired, whether they sustained any casualties, and whether or not there was any collateral damage. His heart sunk at the sight of that question.

"Do I really have to fill all of this out?"

Justin Ayo just stared at him, a look of disappointment and disapproval written on his face. Jack Parsons took that as a yes. He sulkily got through the task and then exited the SRB. Then, him and X6 got onto the central elevator to embark on their next mission. The experience of two men in an elevator reminded him of some of the awkward elevator conversations he had back when the world was normal. Two people would walk into the small enclosed room, with about twenty seconds between them before one or both had to leave. One person would inevitably choose to fill the empty time with conversation, but there was no time for it to be truly impactful. So, they would ramble about the weather or some sports team, getting a grunt of agreement or two before the elevator dinged and they could each go back to their lives. Jack Parsons figured that those conversations were gone forever. At that exact moment, the Courser next to him piped up.

"Are you sure you're ready for more combat? Combat in a zone populated heavily by civilians, no doubt."

"What does it matter to you?"

"I don't want my back to be covered by a human who is reliving flashbacks of days gone by. I need my allies to be focused, refined… I… hope I haven't overstepped my bounds by saying so," X6 finished rather sheepishly.

"Got it…" Jack said, before trailing off. The elevator started to rise. However, Jack was no longer in the elevator at the Institute.

He was back in Canada, in the year 2075, commanding a riot control unit. This year had been particularly stressful for civilians and military alike. Jack Parsons, the military sergeant, didn't know it at the time, but this was going to be his last day on active duty.

He found himself on a city street crowded with cars, standing in front of a line of civilians. The cars, by this point, had long stopped moving. There was no way to power them. Planet Earth had been running out of resources for quite some time, and now the greater populace was beginning to feel those effects in full. All of the petroleum had to go to the military first, and by the time it got to consumer markets, it cost way too much for anyone to afford. It was not long afterward, that food systems had begun to slow down. By this point, it cost most of a man's salary just to feed his family. Hyperinflation was in full effect. And as resources and the value of money lowered, tensions rose. After his covert career securing Alaska and taking the fight to mainland China in power armor, Sergeant Parsons had been re-deployed to Toronto to help keep the populace stable.

The United States had annexed Canada a couple of years earlier, in the name of keeping the peace, but in reality to secure more resources and transportation avenues. What that meant for our hero is he had to forcibly keep the citizens from overthrowing major population centers. The riots had been bad, but never as bad as today.

Jack stood behind a line of armed soldiers dressed in riot gear. They were attempting to hold the line in front of some business or other, that the general populace wanted to burn to the ground.

"You don't care about us! You just care about the bottom line!" shouted on man from the other side of the line, which was met with cheers of approval. The situation was worsening. The crowd had been out for hours, chanting and yelling, and things had almost gotten violent. That was when a radio call came in from his commanding officer.

"We're going to need a real show of force in order to break things up, Parsons," the commander stated. Jack Parsons barely remembered his name, since he had changed posts so frequently in the last couple of years. Probably Smith, or Johnson, or some other apple pie and baseball sort of name.

"What do you mean, sir?"

"What I mean is, put a couple of them down. Have your men fire a couple of warning shots into the crowd. If it worked in Quebec City, it'll work here."

"You want me to fire upon civilians, sir?" Jack asked, dumbstruck. He had heard of this kind of tactic being used elsewhere recently, but could scarcely believe he was being asked to do it here.

Nevertheless, he followed the order. He and his men opened fire, dropped a couple of civilians, and sure enough, the crowd dispersed. He didn't feel like he was inside his own body as he watched himself and the rest of the soldiers, as a couple of protesters fell, spots of blood growing on their clothes. He felt beside himself as people screamed and ran away to safety. Of everything that he experienced during the war, this was the scene that would find itself playing out most often in his dreams.

It ended up being one of the last orders he ever gave as part of the military.


	16. and the Conflict of Interest

**Jack Parsons and the Conflict of Interest**

"Excuse me, general, for saying so, but I'm not sure I understand," came the response of the Minuteman sergeant leading the squad.

It was a tense moment. Guns were drawn, pointed in every which direction. Some were even pointed at Jack Parsons, the very leader of the Minutemen. And now, the de facto leader of the Institute.

See, Jack Parsons had been put in charge of the Commonwealth Minutemen by Preston Garvey after he had decided to help them rebuild, partially by killing a bunch of Raiders and partially by digging wells. He had held this position for the past few months, slowly building strength until they could take charge of a castle and start broadcasting radio signals around the entire region. After that, the organization known as the Minutemen had boomed, with many outlying settlements declaring their allegiance, and their military growing in force until it challenged the other powers of the region. Jack was glad to be in charge.

However, he had also been put in charge of the Commonwealth Institute by a man named Shaun Parsons, but better known as Father. Father was Jack's son, and Jack had tracked him down after traipsing throughout the Commonwealth for months, making a slough of friends and enemies. Father had released Jack from cryo-sleep in vain hopes that Jack would eventually find him and that they could have a relationship. Part of the reason Father made this uncharacteristic decision was that he was dying from terminal cancer, which he disclosed to Jack after Jack had run a few jobs for the Institute and thus proven his loyalty. Against the wishes of basically everyone at the Institute, Jack Parsons was made the acting Director.

Being in charge of both a powerful militia that had the hearts and best interests of the common people, and an underground scientific research facilities with highly advanced weaponry, had its perks. One of them, however, was not the inevitable conflicts of interests which would arise. Which is why everyone was pointing their guns at each other.

You see, Father, sick as he was, still desired strongly to see the Institute reach all of its goals. In order to do that, sometimes they would recruit scientists or otherwise bright individuals from topside, and sometimes replace those individuals with Synths. Recruitment meant sending an armed detachment of Synths to the surface to forcibly take the bright individual, preferably in the middle of the night. T.S. Wallace was one such individual. During a routine kidnapping, er, recruitment, however, Wallace refused to give up so easily. He successfully barricaded himself in his bedroom, and raised such a commotion that the local squad of Minutemen was dispatched to find out what was going on. Upon arriving, of course, the Minutemen found the detachment of Synths, and what ensued was a very hostile standoff.

Jack Parsons was sent to convince the bright individual to let himself be recruited, and had no idea about the squad of Minutemen until he arrived at the house. At that moment, Jack froze in his tracks. The Minutemen knew he was loosely associated with the Institute, and believed that he was working as a double agent. They did not know, however, that Jack had actually become the leader of the place and was considering sticking around, long-term. In their mind the plan was to find out the Institute's weaknesses from inside, and then destroy them when they least suspected it. This was because the Minutemen felt obligated to protect the people living in the Commonwealth, and the Institute had the habit of well, "recruiting" some of those people out of their homes in the middle of the night.

Before Jack could say anything, the opposing groups of Synths who were inside the house spotted their leader, and stepped out to meet him and request his assistance with T.S. Wallace.

At that point, one of the Minutemen raised their rifle and pointed it at the nearest Synth. In response, the Synths all raised and pointed their laser guns at the Minutemen. Jack then pointed a pistol at the leader of the Synths, and in response that Synth raised his gun and pointed it at Jack. Noticing that the Synth's attention was no longer on any of his troops, the Minuteman sergeant pointed _his_ gun at the Synth leader. Witnessing that, Jack raised a _second_ gun at the sergeant. Needless to say, this was a tense and confusing situation for everybody involved, not least the scientist barricaded in his room.

"Stand down," said the Minuteman General and Institute Acting Director. The Synths instantly lowered their weapons, as they had been programmed to do exactly as the Director said with no delay. The humans, however, weren't so eager to comply.

"Excuse me, general, for saying so, but I'm not sure I understand," came the response of the Minuteman sergeant leading the squad. He then trained his gun on Jack.

"I ordered you to stand down, you don't have to understand," responded Jack through gritted teeth. Here was the real test of his leadership. Had he built the Minutemen into a legitimate military force, or had he just given guns and a smidgeon of authority to some uncontrollable wastelanders?

"Will you explain to me what's going on," the sergeant asked, "because it sure as hell looks like you've been brainwashed by the Institute or replaced with a Synth. You walk up to Minuteman territory that _you_ helped secure in order to kidnap this Wallace fella, and then you tell _us_ to desist when we intervene? This is not like you." Jack gulped, and took a moment to formulate a response. A wrong step here could mean damaging his relationship with either faction beyond repair, or worse, a bullet to the head.

"Look, I need you to trust me on this one. You don't have the full picture. The Institute is changing," said Jack, as gently and confidently as he could.

"My ass!" came the reply from the Sergeant, "How can you call it change when I see a robotic death squad come to tear away a man from his home? You expect us to just sit back and watch you kidnap this guy to get replaced by a Synth? Over my dead body, I say," said the Sergeant, just as confidently. The privates behind him though, were no longer looking as confident.

"First of all, he's not going to get replaced with anything. I've been to the Institute. It's safe and comfortable. This man will get the chance to contribute to the advancement of science with some very powerful tools at his fingertips. Once I explain the situation to him, inside, I'm sure he'll agree to come wholeheartedly," Jack lied.

"And if he doesn't?" the Sergeant called his bluff. Jack sighed, and then looked at the men standing behind his opponent. He could see some doubt beginning to form in their faces. He decided to work that angle instead, addressing them.

"Look guys, your commanding officer is about to disregard a direct command from his general. More than that, he's about to engage in an unsanctioned, even treasonous military action. You do not have to be a part of this. Nobody is going to get hurt if you walk away. But Sergeant," he said, addressing the man pointing the rifle at him once more, "If you continue, things are not going to end well."

Here was the moment of truth. The minuteman had to decide whether to back down, or double down. He had no assurance that the soldiers behind him were going to back him up, which meant he was outgunned four to one. He steadied his rifle and took a couple of deep breaths.

Then he lowered his rifle.

"Fine," he spat, "but rest assured, I'm going straight to Garvey to tell him about what is happening here, and what you're really up to. Then I'm turning in my rifle and this stupid hat and leaving."

"Consider it a dishonorable discharge," Jack replied.


	17. and the Turned Tables

**Jack Parsons and the Turned Tables**

"Is this an intervention?" Jack asked, dumbfounded. He was leaning back in his seat, arms crossed.

"If that's what you want to label it," started Nick-

"You bet your ass it is," concluded Piper. Preston Garvey merely nodded, not letting much emotion come to the surface.

"I thought you guys trusted me," Jack defended. He thought this was a waste of time. He had a plan, after all. And it seemed to be working, albeit a little bit slower than he wanted.

"Trust cuts both ways," responded Piper.

"And recently, we're the only ones getting cut," added Nick.

Preston remained silent.

They sat in the inner sanctum of the Castle, in what used to be the hidden passage from the General's quarters to the Armory. It had recently been cleaned out and converted to a safe room, and a meeting room that would be free from eavesdroppers. A deadly sentry robot named Sarge patrolled the adjoining hallways. From the corner of the room, a radio faintly played a song from Diamond City radio that spoke of hacking and smacking.

"Okay," Jack admitted, "I have been a little bit secretive as of late. You can hardly blame me for wanting to keep my mouth shut while working for an institution that can hide in plain sight. Not even I know who is and is not a synth up here. Not until my transition into the Directorate has been completed." Here is where Preston decided to pipe up.

"The Directorate? You were supposed to drop in, find your son, assess the place for weaknesses, and then cut ties. Instead we find you rising through the ranks, performing unsanctioned operations for them inside of Minuteman territory, and now taking the Institute's side during a direct confrontation? That is not simply secretive. It's questionable to the highest degree."

"So here we are, asking some questions," Nick chimed in. Piper rose from her seat and got in Jack's face.

"So what the hell is going on!?"

Jack looked at them like a deer in the headlights. For a second, all he could see was the fire in Piper's eyes. He had seen it indirectly before, but never directed at him. He sort of liked what he saw, and then immediately threw that thought far out of his mind. Back to the task at hand.

He should have known that a day like this was coming, since he had been flirting with both sides of the conflict. He took a deep breath, knowing that the next words out of his mouth were going to have to count.

"You guys are right. I'm sorry. I have been too secretive, and it probably looks extremely confusing from the outside looking in-"

"Damn right it does," interrupted Piper. Jack continued.

"So I want to clue you in. When I first got to the Institute, I thought that it was going to be impossible to live peaceably with them. I just wanted to get my son, and get out. However, when I found out that my son was the leader of the entire place, that threw a wrench in my gears. So I reevaluated the situation. Now, hear me out," Jack pleaded.

Piper leaned back and crossed her arms. Nick folded his hands and leaned forward. Preston stayed still, completely inscrutable behind the veneer of a soldier. Jack took another deep breath.

"I genuinely believe it is possible for the Minutemen and the Institute to coexist in the Commonwealth. Not only coexist, but thrive together."

"Bullshit!" shouted Piper.

"Hmm," mused Nick.

"What do you mean?" asked Preston.

Jack attempted to keep his calm demeanor, even though fear and panic were welling up. He was not used to being put on the spot socially, but rather in combat.

"Let me back up. The overarching goals of the Commonwealth Minutemen are to ensure that the settlements here are protected from the threats of the wastes. Lately, it has expanded farther than ever before, and is frankly becoming a de facto military government. Is that fair?"

"I guess," conceded Piper.

"Hmm," mused Nick.

"No disagreement here," admitted Preston.

"The mission of the Institute is to use every advancement in science in order to further the human race. They view things in very broad terms, and in the past, have ruthlessly disregarded the needs of the few in order to serve the needs of the many. However, the common ground these two organizations have is that they want the best possible life for the maximum amount of people."

"Sure, whatever," said Piper.

"Hmm," mused Nick.

"I see where you're coming from," stated Preston.

Jack felt like he was beginning to gain some ground. It was time for the hard sell. 

"I propose a united Minutemen and Institute. The Minutemen to protect settlements, ensure trade, and eventually establish a democratic government. The Institute to stay underground, continue their research, and release advancements that do real good for the folks above ground."

After that, everyone stayed silent for a while. Piper looked down at the floor, bewildered. Nick looked up and to the left, evidently conceptualizing the possibilities. Preston stared right at Jack. Finally, he broke the silence with a question.

"And you mean to let the Institute keep taking people and replacing them with Synths?"

"No, I don't. I was going to say 'of course not,' but it's an important question to answer. The deal between the Institute and the Minutemen would mean the cessation of all activity that infringes on the basic rights of the people topside. This would mean an end to kidnappings and synth replacement. I even think, with a little luck, that we can negotiate for a cease in synth retention," Jack was reaching, knowing that Justin Ayo would probably only allow that over his dead body. But then again, soon he would have some serious leverage over Ayo. At this point, Nick had a question.

"People up top fear the Institute. How are we going to convince them to team up with the bogeyman?"

"Good question Nick. For one, the decision will be made partly over their heads. The Minutemen and the public are two different things. If the Minutemen, a trusted entity, go with this, then many people are bound to follow rather than rebel against both organizations. I know that sounds a little bit ruthless," Jack conceded, "But because the benefits of the Institute's advancements will be opened up to the public, their opinion will go up alongside the quality of their lives." He took another breath.

"The other part of the answer lies in public relations. We have a couple of channels in Diamond City that are loyal to us, including a very well-known reporter who favors a red trench coat," with this, he looked slyly over at Piper. She wasn't having it.

"Father would never go for this," she states as though she was putting the final nail in the coffin. But Jack had a rather depressing ace up his sleeve.

"Father's dying," Jack replied.

"Bullshit!" shouted Piper.

"Hmm," mused Nick.

"What do you mean?" asked Preston.

"My son, Shaun. He's dying, of cancer. There isn't anything that anyone can do about it," Jack said. He took a moment for the words to sink in. Piper looked unconvinced at first, but then she slowly began to realize that Jack was not lying.

"He has already made me the acting director of the Institute. Most of the board members are for it, and I'm working on the holdouts. You see, I agree with you guys. An agreement between these two groups is virtually impossible. The only way that I can see it working out, is if both groups are led by the same person. And, if I play my cards right, then that will become a reality."

"If _we_ play _our_ cards right," Preston reminded him.

"Right. So here's what it would take to cement my place as leader of the Institute. The Institute and the Brotherhood of Steel are radically opposed to one another. Something has to give. They want me to help bring the Brotherhood down. The Institute is also obviously not a fan of the Railroad. I think if we can push the Brotherhood out, then I will have the clout to deal with the Railroad in a nonlethal manner. After all, the goal is for the Institute to cease Synth retention, so soon the Railroad and Institute will not be at odds" outlined Jack. It was a gamble of a plan, but there was a world in which it could work.

"Spoken like a true master strategist," said Nick, "are you sure you're not the one with a processor instead of a brain?"

"I know it all sounds cold. We have to ask ourselves how far we're willing to go for a united Commonwealth," stated Jack.

"How far we're willing to go? Don't the people have a say too?" demanded Piper.

"Yes. We'll give each settlement a vote as to whether they want Minutemen protection after the merger. I have a feeling that most will go for it when the options are clearly presented."

There. Jack had finished making his case. Somehow, someway, he turned this intervention around. A part of him felt guilty, as if he was manipulating his friends. Then again, he told himself, he was only trying to do what was right. The people in the wasteland were starting to grow on him. And frankly, his son, the only reason he had gotten up in the morning for the past few months, was about to be taken away from him. He had to decide what he was going to live for, and a brighter future for these desperate people seemed good enough.

"Sleep on it, guys. We can talk tomorrow morning if we're going to go for this full speed. It means a war with the Brotherhood, in the very least. And if we fail, it means destabilizing this region for decades."

His friends agreed to think about it. Preston got up to go to sleep. Nick got up to take the night watch, seeing as he didn't need to sleep at all. Piper hung back.


End file.
